


How Can You Live Forever

by thehatpile



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehatpile/pseuds/thehatpile
Summary: It's not "forever", but it feels like it, and it's not at all what John wanted with his life. He's not sure he can handle the responsibility of ageing more slowly than an entire planet of people.





	How Can You Live Forever

On Earth-C, which is either still a video game or possibly another iteration of Buddha's plan, depending on who you talk to, but is most definitely not Heaven, as everyone has seen from kidnapping plots and regular romance, the kids are still God-tier and still have powers. It’s great at first, but after ten years, one thing becomes starkly, frighteningly clear.

They’re not ageing.

It’s John who notices it first, like, really notices. He doesn’t bring it up until he’s sure, but when he tells Dave, he doesn’t get the answer he expects.

"That's 'cause you're depressed, man.” Dave claps John on the shoulder and squeezes. “I know it sounds scary now, but living forever isn’t a big deal. We just started, and cool stuff is happening, and we’ve got each other. Tell you what, lemme talk to Dirk, and we’ll get you some help, okay? The world'll look a lot brighter after. I should know, I mean, look at Dirk. He smiles on the regular now. It's crazy."

That makes sense, and John knows he needs to talk to someone. He’s needed to talk to someone for a while, and possibly medicate the fuck out of himself, if those types of drugs even exist on this planet. Dave’s right, Dirk is a lot more… optimistic lately. (Is ten years later ‘lately’?) Maybe John should find a psychologist, if that’s still what they call them now.

Turns out they are, and he picks one and starts going, mostly because Jade and Dave keep showing up and hassling him and threatening to transport him bodily, unconscious, if he doesn't go, and for some reason John can’t stomach the idea of talking to the same person Dirk did. Having someone know both their secrets and not be a friend is just… weird.

The therapist doesn’t want to prescribe anything just yet. John is having very normal feelings. But they should keep talking, and keep an eye on things, just in case.

"I don't want to die  _right now_ ," he insists to the clucking therapist. "I just want to die  _some day_ , when I get old and live a full life and have a big mustache and laugh lines."

The therapist agrees this is the normal course for things, and suggests John look into it again in 100 years. Does that sound fair? He’s a god, after all, he can’t expect to be completely normal.

Normal people don't live that long!

John misses his normal child life, with his normal father, who sometimes complained about his knees or his aging metabolism and who wanted to teach John how to shave his face and be a distinguished  _older_  gentleman.

It's not like they don't get older; they  _do._  But it's not as fast as everyone else. In fact, it barely seems to be one year for a normal person's ten. When John is 30, he looks 20. When he's 40, he looks 21. When he's 50, he's barely scraped 22, and he only knows he's 50 because he's keeping meticulous track.

Where are his crow's feet? His graying temples? Where's the handsomeness that comes with pure age? Where's his dignified wisdom?

He guesses he has a little of that, as people keep coming to ask him questions and seek audiences with him, but it's getting weird. The kids he ‘blessed’ in a public ceremony when he was 20 are now carrying babies of their own. Rose and Kanaya's children are 20 themselves, and John could be their counterpart.

He doesn't know where he belongs, and he doesn't have the family he thought he would, and it's all.... it's not right.

Even worse, Jane's father is approaching sixty, and he looks it.

Every year that passes seems to stretch the distance between John and the other ‘Gods’. His friends should understand him, but though they’re supportive, it’s clear they don’t get it. What’s wrong with living forever, or for a really really long time? Isn’t that what everyone wants?

It’s harder and harder to hang out with them. There’s some insurmountable tension between them now, some dissonance that John can't overcome just by not thinking about it hard enough.

"Maybe you should try getting in a relationship," Dave suggests. "You know, settle down and have a picket fence and a family like you always wanted."

With who, John wonders. Rose is happily married, Roxy is pursuing elsewhere, Terezi is gone. The woman next door in her 30s, who he watched crawl around and cry for a pacifier what feels like only a few weeks ago?

He's not only doomed to endure forever, he has to endure it alone.

When John is 60, Jade's visits suddenly seem to triple. She's around more frequently, as in  _constantly_. She's always helping him cook, or playing games, or just hanging out on the upper porch watching the sky. She doesn't rush him, or complain he's quiet, or ask about his taste in music or movies. She just sits with him, and after a couple months -- years? -- John has to admit that it's pretty nice.

By the time Rose's first kids are having grandkids, John thinks that maybe it's not so bad now that Jade is here. Maybe.... maybe they could even have a thing. Like Dave was talking about.

Then one day he sees Dave approaching the house, and decides, with a spark of his old self, to surprise him. He blows himself up to the roof to tease them, make him think he's gone. He'll jump out at them when they turn to go back into the house.

"Is he gone?" Dave asks. "I thought we were gonna meet up and watch some of those old movies like that Care Bears thing."

Jade shrugs. "He's probably saying hi to Mr Crocker. I don't like to check up on him when he's out, it seems rude! He's old enough to go where he wants."

Dave nods. "Yeah, he's an adult. So things are goin' okay then? You're not, yknow, stressed out or anything? Need a break? We can watch him whenever, it's not a problem. He's my best friend, I wanna help."

"No, I'm good. He's pretty quiet overall." She pushes her thick black hair back and pulls an elastic out from somewhere, tugging her mane into a poytail. "I don't mind keeping an eye on him. He's my friend, too. He's still kind of depressed. I'd feel bad leaving him on his own now!"

John feels the smile slide off his face and settle in the bottom of the hollowed out pit in his stomach. She's been  _keeping an eye on him_ , like he's a danger to himself. Dave wants to pass him around like a toddler to be managed. He feels sick and cold. Thoughts of a picket fence and a family disappear immediately. Jade doesn't care for him  _that way_ \- She only sees him as a responsibility. All of them do.

He sits down on the roof. It's time to push this hurt down, bottle it. He knows none of his friends view immortality the way he does. None of them understand his fear and dread. Even Jade gets upset when he brings it up. (And now he understands why.) He can't even be angry. It's a selfish kind of love, they're scared of losing him forever. He understands. He watched Rose die in the game, all those long years ago.

John feels his phone buzz against his leg, the vibrations constant as Dave starts to pester him, but facing them is unbearable right now. He lies about not being home, and after he’s sure they’ve left, he sleeps for the rest of the day.

When he sees the therapist again, it's a new girl- the first is apparently long retired and in a nursing home now. Maybe he missed a couple of appointments…

"It's been 84 years," he tells her. She looks down into his thick, yellowing file, eyebrows raised in surprise. It’s a joke, but it’s not entirely a lie. He barely looks 30, even though he's a hundred years old. She _should_ be surprised. It’s not normal. It’s not _right_.

"Maybe we should try medication," she suggests gently, hesitantly. He can see it in her eyes: who wants a medicated god floating around? How will that even affect everyone, especially if word gets out to the press? But he can't think of another solution that won't hurt his friends, so he agrees. She writes the prescription, and it seems to John that he should've done a better job up til now. It shouldn't have come to this. He's supposed to be stronger than all this, he's supposed to lead people.

But no-one asked him what he wanted, and this isn't it.

On the way home, Rose and Kanaya send him pictures of their latest brood. Their sons and daughters are old now, like the long-gone Mr Crocker, and their grandchildren are big enough to hold the grubs. They're all smiling.

His brain makes a checklist without him meaning it to.

Rose: surrounded by family. She'll be fine.

Dave: in some kind of thing with Dirk. He'll survive.

Jade: ....

That one's harder, but only because John knows Jade will blame herself. It's not her fault, but she won't think that way, and she doesn't really have anyone besides her friends. She's not dating anyone seriously, which is fine, John isn't either, but still. He doesn't want to leave her with some load of guilt that shouldn't exist in the first place.

He goes to the pharmacy, fills the script, and goes home. Jade is there, making dinner. Something comforting and hot she learned from her grandfather. John smiles at her and doesn't tell her about the pills. She doesn't need to know. She'd just feel bad, and then she'd tell Dave, and  _he'd_  feel bad, and. Yeah. It'd just be a mess.

John waits until after they've watched their normal night-time shows. He hugs Jade good night, grins at one of her jokes, and goes upstairs to his own room. Then he sets the drugs out, counting more then four times the dosage onto his desk. He gets a glass of water from the bathroom, undresses, and opens the door to the balcony.

The good thing about Earth-C is the eco-sensitivity of the people who grew up here. Maybe the carapace people are more in tune with nature, or maybe the humans learned their lesson somehow early on. Whatever caused it, there's no air pollution to blot out the stars, and the city's lights don't reach far enough to dim the view.

John sits on the floor with the glass and the pills, chuckles at the chill wood on his bare ass, and stares up at the rich dark velvet of the night sky. It really is beautiful. Different from Earth, with constellations John doesn't remember the names of, and more moons than before, but still .... breath-taking.

And speaking of breath-taking, haha, he'd better get the show on the road. The drugs are something he's never heard of, but the pharmacist read him all the side effects, and what to watch out for in case of possible overdose. He hadn't paid much attention at first, at least not until they'd gone over the part about 'having trouble focusing'. He should be aware of this, the pharmacist had cautioned. There would be some slight confusion at first, but it would be nothing serious, and it would go away. If it didn't, or if it grew worse and especially if he suspected he might've taken too many pills, he should seek help.

There didn't seem to be a better help than this.

It's a bit sad that he won't get to pester anyone, but he's said good-bye to Jade in person, and he has letters out to the others. It isn't a bad thing, what he's doing. It's just time, that's all.

Dave should understand, if no one else does. He can explain it.

Is he stalling? He doesn't think so. It's sad to leave everyone, but that's how it's supposed to be. People aren't meant to last forever. It's too... unnatural. Unkind. He may have helped create a new world, but he had to give up his own future to provide for everyone else's. It's not a bad thing, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. Now, though, he wants to do something for  _himself._

The pills have a candy-type sweet coating that makes them go down easier. He takes all twelve, then settles back to wait, contemplating the stars and their slow rotation through the darkness.

He doesn't have to wait for long.

Before the biggest, brightest star -- the one John thinks of as the North Star, though it's decidedly in the West -- can move completely over John's house, the world wobbles at the edges. John's vision falters with it, going out of focus, then in again. He forgets what he's doing here for a moment, without clothes, without friends. He almost gets up -- but then he remembers.

He latches onto that thought, the one he can't afford to lose, and lets the sky swim into something blurry. Sparkly fish in an undulating midnight blue ocean. It might be the pills that make the firmament so watery, or it might be something in John's eyes. It doesn't matter. What matters is that he remembers what he has to do, and he takes in a heavy breath, holding it. He draws on his wind powers, calls up what it feels like to be weightless, to dissipate, to become nothing more than molecules in the atmosphere, floating away. He brings it to mind, holds it as tight as he can, and then

_slowly_

like the unclenching of a fist

he

lets

_go._

In the morning, when Jade comes to wake John, wondering if today will be a day when he sleeps to much and eats too little, there will be nothing for her to find. Nothing, that is, except a half-full glass of water and an open door.

 


End file.
